


Have Strength, My Lady (Barbatos x Reader)

by sondepoch



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Completed, Exploring feelings, F/M, MC is female, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slowish burn?, Uncharted territory, barbatos x reader, eventual angst, like in the second part, lots of "my lady", mc is a demon, reader is female, unrecruited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sondepoch/pseuds/sondepoch
Summary: Where there is the jewel of the heavens, there is the pearl of the abyss—a title that you have the misfortune of bearing. It’s only natural that Lord Diavolo wants to add you to his collection of treasures, and you're not surprised when he requests your hand in marriage. Even less surprising is when your parents agree on your behalf, leaving you to deal with the aftermath despite your being entirely unprepared for a commitment as huge as this.Thus far, you’ve done a good job of hiding your fear with a smile, of hiding your emotions away so that no one but you knows how you feel. But on the way to the palace, a certain demon butler sees through your facade. And when his involvement in your life increases, you can't control the way your heart begins to beat faster around him.There's simply one issue: You're falling for the wrong man.
Relationships: Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Barbatos/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 186





	1. Part 1

It's been centuries since you last wore this many pearls.

Your maids always make sure the balls of light are _somewhere_ on your body, be it a single one centered on a collar, or two delicate studs in your ears, or a subtle bracelet that peeks out when you raise your arm—but today, they've dressed you from head to toe in the gemstone of your namesake. No matter how you turn your head and body, the shimmer of the pearls never fails to catch the light.

"Isn't it lovely, m'lady?" One of your dressing maids asks, smiling fondly as she gazes upon your figure. "Your father said he wanted you to wear this. Fitting, for the pearl of the abyss, wouldn't you agree?"

You nod your head, casting the maid who's been serving you for the past four millennia a soft smile.

The woman has the truth of it: if your natural beauty doesn't shout _pearl of the abyss_ , then the dress does. The fabric alone is mesmerizing: a silky satin, blacker than the midnight sky. The color is a stark contrast to the pearls that decorate it, perfect spheres of _white_ that trail delicate patterns around your dress. They dip low and high, at the base of the gown where it ghosts over the floor and around your the V-neck where they trail deliciously around the hints of exposed skin.

You twist your body, hypnotized by its beauty.

The way the dress ripples as you move makes it look like ebony water, little pearls floating on top to bless it with their brilliance, and of course wherever there's a chance for an accessory your maids have taken it—pearls decorating your ears, neck, wrist, and hair like snowflakes eternally bound.

"It's at times like this when I see you that I can't help but think you must be even more beautiful than Asmodeus himself, m'lady." Your maid wipes a tear from her eye, knowing all too well that this is the last time she'll be dressing you.

You nod, holding your tongue.

You've always disliked being compared to Asmodeus—it makes you feel guilty. He was the original, the jewel of the heavens whose beauty was unrivaled in all of the Celestial sky. Your birth was exclusively to maintain the balance between the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, to give Hell its own gem to be proud of. If not for Asmodeus, no one would have needed a pearl of the abyss; it never would have been created. _You_ would never have been created.

"M'lady?"

You blink, realizing that your maid had been calling your name.

"Sorry," You murmur, forcing another smile to your face. It's all fake, a mask you wear to hide the sheer _terror_ within, but you maintain the facade. "Father said that I'm to leave now, right? I shouldn't waste any more time."

Your maid smiles gently, kissing your cheeks. "Tis been an honor serving you. May you find eternal peace with Lord Diavolo, m' lady."

You return the smile, curtseying lightly as your teachers have taught you. Your words are scripted, memorized long ago with all the other manners you've been taught: "Thank you. I will never forget your service."

Your goodbyes with the rest of your family are even briefer, each one of them eager to see you off. It comes from a good place in their hearts, you know. They simply wish to see you wed and happy—and who better to give you eternal happiness than the prince of the Devildom himself? But still, the laughter you force past your lips comes out choked, and you're holding back tears the entire time as you bid your family farewell, not a single one of them realizing just how desperately you don't want to leave.

Your act is convincing.

You're sure of that much, at the very least. For the past month, ever since you learned the details of this arranged marriage, you've been practicing your facial expressions in the mirror: how to hide your fear with a smile, how to mask your quivering lips with a sigh, how to stop yourself from crying with a laugh.

It works well for you.

The beaming grins of your parents and siblings are a testament to that, none of them the wiser to your true feelings.

But the moment you enter the carriage sent to deliver you to Lord Diavolo's palace, the mask begins to crumble. You've been maintaining it for barely two minutes, and you're already so _drained_.

In front of you, the butler who came to fetch you from your home lets out a light laugh. "You look exhausted, my lady."

You glance upward into a pair of olive eyes, calculating as they stare into your own. Instantly, you avert your gaze. "I am a little tired, good sir. That is all."

He stays quiet as he continues to study you, and you're grateful for it. This is perhaps the first time someone has gazed upon you and _not_ instantly made a comment about your ethereal beauty. Indeed, being created to be the most beautiful woman in the world has its merits, but there are more downsides than one would think.

"I might suggest a remedy for the fatigue, if my lady wishes to hear it."

"Go on," You say, trying to be polite. The way to Lord Diavolo's palace is nearly two hours from here, and you'd rather the carriage ride there be as pleasant as you can make it in the company of this strange man.

"Anger." The butler flashes a cryptic smile your way, one that makes you suspect he's masking his emotions just as much as you are. "Find a person to blame for this situation you fear so, and the flames of your fury will burn too brightly for any lassitude to slip through."

"Your words are noted, but I'm afraid you are mistaken. I do not fear this situation at all." You flash him the same graceful smile you've been practicing in the mirror, repeating the words you've said half a hundred times: "It is an honor to have been chosen to be the bride of Lord Diavolo."

Once more, the butler chuckles.

"Very well," He says, though you're certain he doesn't believe you. "Though might I offer a piece of advice?" At your nod, the demon continues speaking. "You hide your fear from your face well, but it shows in your hands. Flatten your palms, my lady, and I might not notice next time."

A blush creeps onto your face, suddenly realizing that you had absentmindedly been clutching the satin fabric in an attempt to quell the sick feeling in your stomach. Taking his words to heart, you smooth your dress out and lay your palms flat on top, sitting up straight as you avoid the demon's gaze.

You can't be sure whether he hears your quiet "Thank you" before the sound of hellhorse hooves beating against the ground takes over, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. If you strain your ears to listen, you can hear a soft gasp every now and then as people gaze upon the royal carriage you're in—undeniably aware that it's you, the pearl of the abyss, sitting inside.

It's not surprising, though. Lord Diavolo's engagement has hardly been a private matter.

The moment your father accepted his written proposal on your behalf, the entire realm seemed to enter a period of celebration. It's barely been a month since the headline hit the newspapers, and over that short period of time, every demon in the land has come to know of the engagement. It's common knowledge that you're set to arrive in Lord Diavolo's palace today, and the gaudiness of his royal carriage leaves little to the imagination. Doubtless, every single passenger who crosses your escort knows that it's _you_ sitting inside.

A soft smile pulls at your lips when you hear a child call your name in the distance, begging to see your face.

The butler in front of you hears the request, too, eyes instantly flitting to yours.

"Can we?" You ask, heart softening at the child's continued cries to catch just a single glimpse of your perfection.

"As you wish, my lady." The demon snaps his fingers, and the hellhorses halt in an instance, and you can hear the sound of a child racing to catch up with the carriage. The butler opens the transport, offering his hand to you as you step out, eyes watching carefully as the child exclaims in joy when he realizes that his wish has been heard.

"You're... you're so pretty!" The little boy exclaims, mouth wide open as he stares at you in disbelief. You can't help but chuckle at his inability to glance away, knowing that it's the youngest of children who are most swayed by your beauty. And, of course, they're also the ones who have yet to develop the sense not to stare—but you don't mind.

"Thank you," You bemd down to the child's level. You wish you could give him something, a token to remember you by, but all you have are the pearls on your dress, and you doubt the butler behind you would approve of you tearing one off and giving it away.

"C-can I touch?" The boy asks, eyes round. You give him a small nod, watching as he lifts a finger to your cheek and gasps. "It's so soft!"

A smile blooms on your face, the most genuine smile you've worn since learning about your arranged marriage. "You're a very kind boy," You tell him. Deciding that you can't give him a souvenir of this exchange, you settle for kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

Standing back up to your full height, you watch as the boy waves you goodbye while the butler helps you back into the carriage, the hellhorses moving forward once more with another snap of his fingers.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," He says, studying you with a perplexed expression. "There was nothing to gain in showing your face to that boy."o

"Why not?" You respond, still smiling softly at the memory of the child's eyes round in wonder. "It made him happy, even if only briefly."

"You would go out of your way for the happiness of a mere child?"

"Of course," You respond. "You wouldn't?"

The demon shakes his head, an amused smile appearing on his face once more as he pulls out a handkerchief. He offers it to you, and you glance at the lettering. _Barbatos_ , it reads in cursive embroidery.

"What is this for?" You take the square of fabric from the demon's hand, staring at it in confusion.

"When the boy touched you, he left a smudge of dirt on your face." The demon, who's name you reason must be Barbatos, points to his own cheek. "I assumed you would want to wipe it off."

You nod your head, grateful that he told you. Suddenly thankful that you have no need of makeup, you rub the left side of your cheek harshly, hoping that you got the dirt off.

In front of you, Barbatos grimaces.

"You made it worse, my lady."

"Oh," You mumble, flustered once more. You stay seated with the handkerchief in your hand, not quite sure what to do, when the demon in front of you sighs. He holds his hand out.

"Give it here. Let me assist you, my lady."

You return the dark green square to its owner, shifting forward as Barbatos folds it and begins swiping at your cheek, lifting a gloved finger under your chin to turn your cheek into the light, angling your jaw up and then to the right until he's confident that all traces of the child are gone. It takes all your effort to fight back a blush, ignoring the fact that your family never allowed any boy to get this close to you, much less _touch_ you so comfortably.

"Thank you..." You begin, once the demon is done. "...Barbatos?"

Your words sound like a question, hesitant and unsure whether you got the demon's name right. To your relief, he nods. "Correct." He folds his hands in his lap.

"Barbatos, as in the duke of hell?" You say, eyebrows raised.

"Duke of hell, butler, what's the difference?" He wears a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, and you can't be certain if he's joking or not. Though it's obvious that he finds humor in your confusion. "I serve both Lord Diavolo and the realm, however unorthodox my methods may be."

"Ah," You finally say, still not quite understanding. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Barbatos."

"And you, my lady." The edges of his lips curve upward as he glances down at your dress. "I suppose you might be even more beautiful than the rumors say. A good deal more foolish, as well, but that matters not."

"Excuse me!" You exclaim, crossing your arms. "I have done nothing that warrants being called foolish!"

"Nothing?" Barbatos asks incredulously, shaking his head. "My lady, you are to be a queen soon. Danger lurks where you will least expect it, and letting little children close enough to touch you will only cause problems in the long run."

"But didn't you see how happy the boy was?" You ask, eyes softening at the memory. Your voice is hopeful, recalling the moment with bliss. "His eyes lit up like a thousand suns."

Barbatos sighs, deciding not to make any further comment. You're certain he disagrees, that he believes a child's smile is not worth risking your own safety for, but he stays quiet for the rest of the ride, staring at the landscape as it passes by.

You keep track of the time by the location of the sun: it was perfectly overhead when you departed from your home, and it had slowly crept lower and lower as the carriage ride progressed. It was ghosting over the treetops when you stopped to meet that little boy, and by now, it's dipped low enough to be considered sunset.

You swallow, realizing that it's been long enough that you should be at Diavolo's palace any moment now. You pull your gaze from the sun, opting to study the buildings around you.

It's no longer an empty plain you're traveling through—rather, the land you're passing through has been settled, lived upon. It looks almost like a city with how modern the buildings are, though you're not riding on the formal roads you see in the distance. After another long minute of staring, you slowly begin to realize that you're in the heart of the Devildom: the campus for the Royal Academy of Diavolo.

A sick feeling roots itself in your stomach as you glance at the buildings, realizing that they are indeed classrooms and dormitories. Just two months ago, your family had been waiting for your five thousandth birthday so that you could apply to the RAD and attend the most prestigious academy in the entire Devildom, though it seemed that they had dropped all those plans when Lord Diavolo requested your hand in marriage.

You blink back tears, trying not to think about the life you could have had, if only you weren't summoned to be Lord Diavolo's bride. If only you weren't so beautiful. If only you weren't the pearl of the abyss.

"Palms, my lady."

You turn to Barbatos, eyebrows raised. What is the demon on about?

He gestures to his own hands, making a motion of flattening them before you catch his meaning. Your gaze flits down to your own hands, and you're embarrassed to find that they're clenched into tight fists once more, almost turning white with how hard you're squeezing them.

"Not afraid, you said earlier?" For the second time today, his smile seems to laugh at your flustered state, catching you in another uncomfortable situation. "Do not worry; I will not run to Diavolo and tell him his bride is afraid of this marriage."

You hold your tongue, not sure how to respond. Is Barbatos doing you a kindness? Or is repeatedly calling you out a cruelty?

The opportunity to find out never comes, and the sound of hellhorse hooves, which has actually grown somewhat comforting over the course of these past few hours, comes to a stop.

"We're here?" You ask Barbatos, remembering to wear a pleasant smile before your true emotions can surface to your face.

"Quite so. Welcome to the royal palace of Diavolo," He responds, exiting the carriage and offering his hand to you. "The grounds of your future."

Lord Diavolo's palace is in the middle of the RAD campus, and students are still walking around on the grounds, all of them stopping to study your figure as you exit the carriage.

"Do not look at them," Barbatos says quickly, stepping in front of you when one of them attempts to take a picture. "Come, my lady. My lord awaits you within."

You follow the butler's fast pace as he walks forward, suddenly thankful that the heels your maid had dressed you in aren't especially high. The walk through Lord Diavolo's palace is long, almost long enough for another bout of anxiety to root itself in your stomach, but Barbatos finally stops in front of an unusually large door.

You don't need him to say a word to know that Lord Diavolo is inside.

The demon halts, hand raised to open the door before he abruptly turns around, studying you from head to toe. "You're terrified to the core," He comments, not an ounce of hesitance in his voice. "But no one will be able to tell."

A small smile appears on his face when he glances at your hands. To your merit, they're hanging loosely at your side, not even quivering. You let them dangle delicately, acting as though it doesn't take all your effort to ensure as much.

"I'm ready," You say, a confident smile appearing on your lips. Barbatos can see past it, you know. He can tell that you're trembling inside, that you the only reason you haven't thrown up in terror is because you've yet to eat, that your heart only beats the thumping rhythm of _fear_ as you prepare to meet the man who has already changed the course of your life.

"You are not," He answers smoothly, turning around. "But, by now, the students at RAD will have raised enough of a fuss on Devilgram over your arrival, so Diavolo most likely already knows that you've arrived."

Barbatos sighs at your silence, probably feeling bad for you. He places his hand flat against the door, readying himself to open it, when he pauses.

"Have strength, my lady," He whispers enigmatically, before turning away.

And then the doors have opened.

The words stay with you as you follow Barbatos into what appears to be the dining hall, drawing closer and closer to not just Lord Diavolo, but the infamous Lucifer himself—another demon you've grown up learning about, never imagining that you would actually be in the same room as him.

 _Have strength,_ you tell yourself, pushing your shoulders back as a delicate smile comes to your face, the same smile you've spent a month practicing in the mirror. Confidence is easy to fake as you continue walking, only further advanced by the way both Lord Diavolo's and Lucifer's eyes widen as they take in the sight of you. You're certain it's the first time either of them has witnessed such beauty.

As soon as you're an appropriate distance from Lord Diavolo, Barbatos pauses. You follow suit, curtseying gracefully as you lift your dress. The words that roll off your lips are automatic: "It is an honor to meet you, Lord Diavolo."

As soon as your voice breaks the silence, the two demons in front of you seem to be snapped back to reality, freeing themselves of the natural stupor that your charm induces. Lord Diavolo speaks up, his princely voice filling the room, "The pleasure is all mine, young MC. You are even more beautiful than all the rumors say."

The prince approaches, and for a moment, you can't help but marvel at the sheer size of the man, already looking like a king. He's standing proudly in his demon form, showing how he's made of nothing but muscle and more muscle. He gently takes your hand and bends low onto one knee, laying a kiss over your knuckles as he stares up at you, eyes still slightly round in wonder. "The pearl of the abyss is even more enchanting than the jewel of the heavens, I dare say." Lord Diavolo rises, letting your hand fall to your side. "Wouldn't you agree, Lucifer?"

The ebony-haired demon glances away, seemingly uncomfortable with the question. "Her beauty is unrivaled," He mutters softly, the light pink dusting on his cheeks enough for you to know that he is telling the truth.

You maintain your smile, fake as it is lovely.

Lifting your eyes for a moment, you can't help but marvel at Lord Diavolo's fiery red hair and amber eyes. Indeed, he's what every little demongirl dreams of marrying one day—a literal prince—but you suddenly wish that Barbatos had taken longer while walking you here. You feel nauseous. Nauseous, hesitant, and _afraid,_ standing here in front of this man whom you've been engaged to for a month, despite having only just met him.

"Come, my love," Lord Diavolo says, walking over to the table. He pulls a chair out for you, the seat closest to his own at the end of the table, while Lucifer sits across from you. It feels strange, and somewhat unnatural, for you to be sitting next to not only the prince of hell but the fallen Morningstar himself, before you realize that you, yourself, must be just as foreign to them: the pearl of the abyss, MC of hellfire.

"Tell me," Diavolo begins, eyes still drinking in the sight of _you,_ "Is it true that you were shaped to perfection by the very same flames that nurtured Cerberus?"

You laugh, smiling sweetly at the man. "A woman must keep some secrets, no?"

A quiet laughter bounces around the table, the two demons seemingly comforted by your false sense of normalcy. It's easy for you to pretend to be fascinated by Diavolo, to act as if you understand what Lucifer is saying. Where other girls had learned needlework and laundry from a young age, your father sent you to teachers who helped you master the art of being a woman. Learning how to charm men was a natural part of that.

"How are you feeling?" Diavolo asks after a brief silence. "Your father mentioned to me in a letter that you haven't been looking well as of late. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, Lord Diavolo." Your response is mechanical, though the word you'd use to describe yourself right certainly wouldn't be 'better.'

"Just call me Diavolo!" He exclaims, grinning widely. "Or you can call me 'honey,' or 'dear,' or whatever else you'd like!"

You can't help but laugh at that, your smile becoming a little more genuine. "Alright, Diavolo. It is a pleasure."

The demon smiles at you, and continues to make polite conversation. It feels almost normal, with the redhead eagerly talking on and on at both you and Lucifer, while both you and the fallen Morningstar exchange glances of amusement every now and then at your prince's words. Indeed, it feels like something you could grow used to, and by the end of the hour, you've almost forgotten your fear at marrying the man.

But it's at this end of this hour, when the sun has finally dipped beneath the horizon, that Diavolo's expression turns serious.

"My love," He says, voice no longer merry. "There is one thing we need to address."

You fold your hands in your lap, gazing at Diavolo expectantly. Eyebrows raised just the slightest, you try to maintain your mask of delicate tranquility. "Go on?"

"I'm afraid our marriage will be rather unorthodox. Specifically...the timing may be shorter than what you are accustomed to."

You nod your head, following along. A typical demon engagement will last for a few centuries, or whatever the age difference is between the bride and the groom. It is not rare for royal engagements to be shorter, as princes and princesses attempt to come into power, but even so, you should have a few decades at the minimum.

"My personal goal is to bring the Devildom closer to the Celestial Realm and human world. Over the years, our realms have grown apart, and I wish to reunite them."

You hold your smile like a mask, still not understanding what the 'unorthodox' part is.

"My current plan spans over eight thousand years in the future, ending with all three realms reunited and in balance once more, but when you account for a margin or error with diplomatic relations and all the trouble that traditionally accompanies revolutionary changes like this, it grows even longer, and..." Diavolo sighs, folding his hands and turning to you. "It is imperative that I am crowned as soon as possible, so that I can execute my plan in a time-efficient manner. As such, it is critical that we shorten the traditional engagement period as much as possible."

You nod, the sick feeling you had before entering this room suddenly returned, and twice as strong. You can't help but remember Barbatos's words when you told him you were ready.

_You are not._

Had he known?

You force a smile to your face, trying to look as encouraging as possible while Diavolo hesitates. The prince glances into your eyes, searching for something that you're not sure he finds.

"My love, we are to marry in one month."

And with those words, the sick feeling in your stomach spreads to every inch of your body except your face—which you keep painfully frozen. Your eyes are locked onto a figure in the distance, locked onto a set of eyes that are staring straight at you.

 _Barbatos_ , you think, as he continues to smile cryptically. You search his face for answers, for advice, for something that can help you figure out how in hell you should handle this situation, but then you recall his words to you from earlier, a quiet whisper that you weren't even sure you were supposed to hear.

_Have strength, my lady._

Barbatos's smile seems to turn genuine as you remember his earlier whisper, and within moments, you've turned away, looking into the amber eyes of Diavolo.

"I understand." You smile. The fear that had previously settled in your stomach has bloomed into a gigantic tree of terror, only further nurtured by the prospect of sealing your hand away in marriage so soon, but you ignore it. "I'll do my best to learn the ways of this household so that I may serve you as a worthy queen."

***

When you next wake, you're in an unfamiliar room. It takes a moment for your memory to return, vaguely recalling being escorted here by Barbatos after an uncomfortable dinner with Diavolo. Looking down, it seems that you passed out on the bed without even changing your clothes.

 _What a wonderful way to start the morning_ , you can't help but think. The thought weighs heavily on your mind as you drag yourself from bed, memories from last night continuing to flood through your mind. Diavolo had apologized profusely over dinner about the shortened engagement period, but you could only smile and tell him it was alright. Your facade threatened to collapse when he revealed that your training would begin today, giving you literally _no_ chance of a break, but you had managed to accept his words with a tight smile.

 _Training_.

You groan.

It's customary for the bride in any wedding to be trained in the ways of the household so that she may seamlessly transition into her new role after the wedding, but your training will be on another level entirely. You're literally going to have to learn the ways of being a _queen_ , not to mention all the extra nuances that accompany the title. Just the thought makes you groan.

A knock pulls you from your thoughts, likely a repetition of the very thing that had woken you in the first place.

"Coming," You call drowsily, not even bothering to straighten your appearance before opening the door. You blink the sleep from your eyes, expecting to see a maid here to help you dress, but it's none other than Barbatos who stands on the other side, his expression amused as ever when his eyes take in your still-sleepy form. "You!" You exclaim, it still being too early for you to remember your manners.

"Yes, it's me. I do all the bidding of Diavolo at this castle, so you can expect to be seeing me quite often." Barbatos glances down at you, the disheveled dress that you were wearing yesterday. He looks unimpressed. "May I come in?"

You immediately step back, allowing the butler into your room. _He does all the bidding of Lord Diavolo_ , you think. _All the bidding. All._

"A-are you here to dress me for the day?" You ask, fingers fidgeting.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," You say smoothly, sighing to yourself. You've only been dressed by women before, young maidens you've known all your life; but you suppose that this will be just the beginning of the many changes about to overtake your life, so there's no point in fighting it. Suddenly registering that the only people you've seen in Diavolo's castle have been the prince himself, Lucifer, and Barbatos, another realization dawns upon you. "I assume you're also the one who'll be training me this month?"

Barbatos nods.

You sigh as he opens a drawer and hands you a stack of smallclothes, guiding you to the bathroom and instructing you to prepare for the day. The process ends up being simple enough; you don't want to question how the drawers are equipped with the very same face wash and cleansers that you used at home, or how the underwear fits you perfectly, or how even the toothpaste is the same flavor that you've been using for the past two thousand years. You simply go with the flow, laughing to yourself when you see that the circular laundry basket is also familiar, the same model as the one that used to be in your room.

It's rather uncomfortable to exit the bathroom in nothing but underwear, but Barbatos barely looks at you, pulling your body to a mirror where he lifts your arms into a T-pose and begins dressing you.

"Starting tomorrow, Diavolo wants to have breakfast with you," He says as he works, tightening a corset behind your back. "You'll be at his side for all parties and important events, and perhaps for a few RAD student council meetings. The rest of the time, you'll be with _me_ ," Barbatos tugs sharply on the strings of your corset, and you have to bite back a gasp. "Learning how to best serve Diavolo as his future queen."

You flinch as Barbatos's fingers tug on your corset once more, the man prioritizing efficiency over gentleness. His gloved hands are cold against your skin, and you're not used to the roughness with which he handles you. "Too much?" He asks, noticing your grimace.

"I'm fine," You lie, but you can tell he doesn't believe you because when he resumes working, his pace is slower. It's not quite gentle, but certainly less painful. "Tell me more. You said I am to have breakfast with Diavolo from now on. Does he not eat the other two meals?"

Barbatos laughs. It's a short, abrasive sound, but it's charming in its own right. "I also told you that you would be with me for the rest of the day, my lady." He pauses, stepping back to study your figure before lifting a deep blue gown from your drawer. He raises it to your chest, wrapping it around you before beginning to lace up the back. "I assure you, you will be too exhausted to give Diavolo proper companionship under my training."

"Is there a reason he does he not wish to dine with me this morning?" You ask, somewhat concerned. You thought you had done a good job yesterday acting like a lovestruck girl, but could Diavolo have recognized your apprehension over the marriage?

You glance at Barbatos uneasily in the mirror, silently recalling all the instances where he had called you out on your fear. Could he have said something to Diavolo?

"Do not fret, my lady. As president of the RAD student council, he had to attend their meeting today. There is no other reason."

You nod your head at the butler's words, letting your mind drift as he continues to work.

What will this month be like? You have nearly an eternity of being a queen laid out in front of you—it seems impossible to learn everything you'll need to know in a short thirty days. Then again, if Barbatos approaches teaching the way he approaches the process of dressing you, it'll go by quicker than you're used to, and will be twice as efficient in the process.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, mouth slightly agape, when you realize that the demon has successfully dressed you in barely five minutes.

"I'm sure it's less extravagant than you're used to," Barbatos says, gesturing to the blue dress he's put you in. "But you'll find that it's much more practical, this way."

You can certainly see where he gets that idea from. The dress you're wearing is pretty, no doubt, but it's far from beautiful. Still, you can't help but savor the blissful _freedom_ you have in this specific gown. It has three-quarters length sleeves and hangs just above your knees, tight in all the right spots but equally loose where you desire—and it allows the perfect mix of comfort and movement. You can't deny that you find the velvet fabric preferable to the stunning satin gown you'd donned yesterday.

"So, where do we go from here, Barbatos?" You ask, turning around. You notice the demon's eyes widen just the slightest as he takes in the sight of your body first hand, vision unobstructed by the mirror, but he masks his momentary awe soon enough.

"Breakfast, my lady." He gestures for you to follow him as he leads you down to the dining hall. "And then your training will begin."

***

Breakfast with Barbatos may very well be the most uncomfortable thing you've ever endured. The demon stands in front of you as you eat, studying your posture and your dining manners with calculating eyes as you try to ignore him.

"I thought you said training would begin _after_ breakfast," You protest, almost laughing, after his staring gets to be too much. "Stop gawking at me like that!"

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asks, an amused smile on his face. The butler leans in close to you, temporarily halting your breath as he smirks. "You are going to be queen, my lady. Not only that, but you are the pearl of the abyss. At all hours of the day, men will be staring at you, be it because they are enchanted by your beauty or because they are waiting for you to make a mistake. Get used to it."

You flinch as the demon abruptly pulls back, taking your plate of breakfast with him.

"I-I'm not done!" You protest, staring open-mouthed at the butler's retreating form.

"Close your mouth!" Is all he responds, chuckling as he dumps the dish in the kitchen.

It's a moment before he returns, but when he does, he's gesturing for you to follow him once more as he continues to lead you around the castle. You almost think he's wandering around aimlessly until he finally brings you to a large hall, a single throne in the center.

"Come, my lady. This is your first lesson: I want you to sit on this throne."

You raise your eyebrows, walking forward without a hint of hesitance. "My first lesson is in sitting?" You ask, tone reflecting how ridiculous the prospect is. You take your seat with ease. "I'm afraid I learned proper posture early on, Barbatos."

The demon chuckles at your confidence, eyes gazing over your form with satisfaction. No doubt, he recognizes that your posture is impeccable. "You can sit properly, yes. But for how long?" The demon raps his knuckles on the back of the throne, walking around you. "As queen, you'll be sitting on this throne for four hours straight, twice a day, six days a week. Let's see if you can last a single hour."

Your mouth instinctively curls into a smile—a _real_ smile. You like the challenge in Barbatos's voice.

You should have the upper hand in this, you know. As a child, your education had never been centered around the sciences or the arts, but on learning how to be a lady: prim, proper, and perfect. Not only was posture taught, but also the ability to stay still for hours on end without fidgeting. This lesson should be easy for you.

But five minutes in, your confidence begins to waver.

"Starting to understand the purpose of this exercise, are we?" Barbatos is amused, noting the way your throat bobs as you swallow and shift uncomfortably in the chair. The bottom of your butt is tender, only used to cushions and luxury. Even the carriage that had driven you here was rather uncomfortable. But it's not just the thin padding that makes this throne uncomfortable. The metal underneath seeps through, chilling your thighs with an intensity that makes you think your rear will be ice by the time you're done. Another five minutes, if not an hour, will be torture.

"Distract me," You mutter, frowning. "I might be on this throne for hours on end, but the queen of the Devildom hears the requests of her people. I will never be on this throne aimlessly, with nothing to think about but the uncomfortableness of this seat."

"Very well," Barbatos says, nodding. He looks somewhat impressed with your request, as if he hadn't expected you to be so assertive. You're thankful that the pleading inflection of your voice went over his head. "Let me give you a scenario, then. A thief has been caught stealing a handful of jewels from a local store. He insists that he stole them not for his own gain, but so that he could sell them and feed his family. What do you do?"

You bite your lip, thinking deeply. The Queen's Justice is law in the Devildom, and your wish is everyone's command—but for that same reason, it's critical that your rulings are sound. You hesitate for a moment before coming to a decision. "I ask him how he stole the jewels, and using that information, I help the jeweler protect themself from future attempts at thievery."

"And then?" Barbatos asks, eyebrows furrowed. Whatever he expected to hear from you, that clearly wasn't it.

"I return the jewels he stole to the jeweler and give him and his family food so that he won't need to steal again?" You say, though it's more a question than a statement. You won't pretend to be confident—you know your solution is poor.

Barbatos shakes his head, sighing. "Your idea is bad, but not as bad as I would have expected for one who has never been educated in this field."

_Is that a compliment?_

Barbatos doesn't give you a chance to dwell on it, moving on immediately.

"There are various methods of dealing with thieves. You are aware of the fact that the Queen's Justice is the only justice in the Devildom; even Diavolo will honor your rulings. But for that reason, you must decide how you wish to deal with these issues. There is a gradient of strictness, and you will traditionally want to fall in the center. Some queens might cut off the thief's hand, while others may let him go with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Your idea of finding out his methods and revealing them to the jeweler was intelligent, but it is incomplete if it stands on its own."

"Fine, then. What would you do, Barbatos?" You can't help but ask as you stare at the demon in front of you.

The butler raises his eyebrows, amused. "Do you truly wish to know?"

You nod, somewhat interested in finding out.

"I'd flip a coin," He says, smiling. "Heads—and the perpetrator becomes Cerberus's next meal. Tails—he goes home free."

"That's awful!" You exclaim, eyes wide with horror. Stealing jewels doesn't warrant death, nor should it go entirely unpunished. Both alternatives to Barbatos's punishment are equally awful, making the solution as a whole entirely ineffective. You stare at his unnerving smile, quietly hoping that this is just a joke. "You don't truly mean that, do you?"

Barbatos lets out a light laugh, circling behind your throne once more. "I might not, but that doesn't change the fact that whatever punishment I'd deal would be infinitely crueler than anything you could. Justice is meant to appeal to reason, which is why we call it the Queen's Justice, and not the king's. A king can rule however he likes, but queens are always selected for their good sense."

You raise your eyebrows. Now it's your turn to appear amused. "Do you take me for that much of a fool? I was chosen for my looks, Barbatos." A light laugh spills from your lips, a soft sound you haven't heard in a long time. "I could have been crazy, for all Diavolo knew."

"Perhaps, but my training would have remedied that." Barbatos smiles, turning to you. "So tell me, my lady. How will you rule as a queen? What will be your justice?"

You lean back in your throne, understanding the weight of Barbatos's question. He is here to train you, to develop your skills and turn you into the woman who will serve the realm for thousands upon thousands of years. Your decision here will mark how he educates you, what he teaches you, and where he guides you.

"A queen who makes her people happy," You say, more to yourself than him.

"Pardon?" The butler seems entirely shocked by your response, his eyebrows furrowing together almost cutely. "You're choosing to prioritize happiness?"

"What else?" You ask, lowering your eyes. "We are blessed to live in a time of prosperity. Does it not make sense that those in power should do everything they can to make sure that those in the lower rings of society can share in our happiness? They deserve joy just as much as we."

Barbatos is silent, letting your explanation wash over him.

No doubt, he's recalling all the previous times your actions have said the same thing: when you stopped the carriage to speak with that little boy, when you protested Barbatos's apathy afterward, and a certain other detail that you pray goes over his head.

It's a long time before he speaks, and when he does, he's looking straight into your eyes for the first time since you entered this room.

"My lady, why did you agree to this marriage?"

_He noticed._

You try to look away, try to avert your eyes from Barbatos so that you can attempt to come up with an excuse, some more innocent justification for your words. You forgot your place when you were speaking, you forgot that this is _Diavolo's_ butler you're speaking to and in equal parts someone you should be fearing, not man you can trust the emotions you're keeping hidden. But before you can turn your face, Barbatos's finger somehow ends up under your chin, and you're forced to continue staring into those impossibly green eyes, never faltering.

"It makes the realm so happy," You whisper after the longest time. "The night my father accepted on my behalf, I couldn't sleep through the cheers. For the past month, they've lit fireworks every night, the festivals in honor of our marriage have already begun, and even the youngest of children are excited at the prospect of getting to watch our love."

"So what is it that you are so afraid of?"

You smile softly, hearing the question you were hoping so desperately he would ask. You're certain Barbatos is recalling your fear-stricken expression from yesterday, your body's instinctive response whenever the subject of your marriage came up. Still, you keep quiet. He studies your expression, but his question is one you cannot answer—one you _refuse_ to answer, as long as you are in this palace.

Barbatos sighs, lowering his finger from your chin. It still feels like you're locked in by some invisible force, keeping your gaze fastened to the demon as he turns away, hiding his expression.

"Very well then, my lady." His tone is cold, far away once more. "A queen who makes her people happy you shall be."

He continues walking, leaving the prior moment behind in favor of continuing his lesson. "Now tell me, how does such a queen handle thieves?"

You swallow, realizing that Barbatos's tutelage will consist more of him guiding you to answers rather than giving them to you outright, and you strain your brain to think. It's a while before you respond, but you eventually find the words: "The same way she handles all crime, right? To ensure happiness, she will have to get to the root of the issue. She'll need to understand it's source, and work from there."

"Indeed. But the thief has already told you: the reason he committed his crime was because he needed to feed his family."

"But surely there must be a reason why he was so poor in the first place! For him to resort to thievery while knowing the risk means that he has tried other things. What if the underlying cause is that the district he comes from doesn't have enough jobs, or that a drought is approaching and food is growing too expensive to afford?"

Barbatos nods encouragingly, forcing a smile to his face. "Very good, my lady. Those would be true underlying causes, but should you wish to eliminate them, you would need a means of doing so. Let us say, in this specific example, that the reason the thief was unable to afford food was because he could not get a job. In his district, he is among many others who are out of work, and this issue is spreading. What do you do?"

You pause, turning the butler's question over in your mind. What _would_ you do? The answer that comes to you is hesitant, but it's the best you can think of: "I would ask Diavolo to start a project that requires workers. Perhaps a construction project? Something located near the district in question, so that it can employ those without jobs as construction workers, but also something that can continue to create jobs for them when the project is complete."

"Can you think of any specific examples of what might serve as a useful building to be built?" Barbatos asks, eyebrows raised. Even when you shake your head and tell him no, the somewhat impressed look never fades from his face. "Regardless. That plan wasn't entirely awful, my lady."

He chuckles, and you have to physically stop yourself from pouting at his words. You're certain he saw the millisecond where your lower lip jutted out, because when he next turns to you, his eyes are filled with mirth. The demon grins. "You may be more ready to be a queen than I thought."

The remainder of the hour passes by quickly. Barbatos continues to provide you morally questionable scenarios and you try your hardest to distinguish right from wrong, the two of you working together to brainstorm creative alternatives to conventional punishments.

By the time the demon is telling you to rise from your throne, you've almost forgotten the initial purpose of the exercise—but your attempt to stand brings the crushing realization crashing back to you.

"I cannot."

Barbatos blinks, raising his eyebrows. "Pardon, my lady?"

"I cannot," You repeat, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you glance away. "Rise, I mean. From the throne. I cannot."

Barbatos stares at you in puzzlement, evidently not having expected _this_ of all things. "My lady..." He begins, his words coming out slowly. "Do you mean to tell me that you actually allowed your legs to go numb while sitting on this throne?"

A meek nod.

"Goodness," Barbatos mutters, closing his eyes in exasperation. "I take back all my compliments for the day. You are a bigger fool than I had ever imagined."

You stare at your feet, trying not to wonder how you hadn't realized earlier that there's no feeling in anything lower than your back. It's a moment before you break the silence. "So...what now?"

"What do you think, my lady?" Barbatos walks over to you, scowling profusely as he offers his hand. "Hold on to me," He mutters.

Hesitantly, you palm your hand into his—and then his other hand has snaked around your body, lifting to your feet as you awkwardly stumble on your legs. "Relax," He says quietly when your first flailing attempts to find your footing fail. "I will not let go, my lady."

His words have a calming effect, and he grips your upper body tight enough for you to stabilize your legs, hissing as the feeling begins to creep back into your body.

"Help!" You exclaim when you lose your balance, and instantly Barbatos is bending his knees with you, wrapping a hand around your waist as he steadies you once more. Against your will, you begin to hear the familiar _thump_ of your heart as it beats faster and faster when he quietly tells you to calm down, to take your time in regaining stability on your feet.

You're hesitant, unsure of what to do other than cling to Barbatos as he supports you. This is entirely uncharted territory for you, unfamiliar in every regard! You've never been allowed to get this close to a man. Your parents had explicitly forbidden it! Yet still, there's nothing you can do to tame the fast beating of your heart or the blush that spreads across your cheeks like wildfire, your only mercy being the fact that Barbatos is looking away from you as he continues to hold you.

"Barbatos?" You ask, once you're confident that your voice will not betray you.

"What?" He responds swiftly, and you're certain that he means for the word to come across as irritated, but his voice is soft. It's strange, you can't help but think. For the first time today, his grip is gentle as he holds you in place—a stark contrast to the rough pace at which he had worked when dressing you this morning.

"Thank you," You murmur.

And as he whispers a quiet "You're welcome," you don't need to look up to know that there's a shyness in his expression, both of you suddenly pink with embarrassment at the undeniable intimacy of the moment.

 _It's quite lovely,_ you can't help but think.

For the third time since meeting him, a genuine smile forms upon your lips as you stare at the ground. You are unfamiliar in the language of affection, always kept far from anyone who might taint your pearly innocence—but there is no denying the strange feeling in your heart.

 _Thump thump_ , it beats, but not with fear as it had yesterday.

The rhythm is slower, steadier, gentler.

You smile, exhaling lightly as you bring the hand clutching Barbatos's shoulder down to his chest. Indeed, it's not just you: under your touch, his heart accelerates as well.

 _Thump thump_ , you feel in his chest, and you hear the same sound your ears.

You gasp lightly, eyes round in wonder as you strain your ears and feel your hand tremble, listening and feeling the sound of your hearts.

_Thump thump. Thump thump._

They beat in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 8.7k
> 
> Notes: The sheer amount of times I had to rewrite this is insane >.> i have three other drafts all over 5k because i could not decide how to characterize our favorite butler T^T Also part 2 is going to be hella angsty, just a heads up ;)
> 
> Comment & Leave Kudos
> 
> Next Update: 5/31/20
> 
> I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.


	2. Part 2

The noblemen of your kingdom, though good at heart, are rather _bold_ when it comes to you. You're not sure if it's because they're enraptured by your beauty or because they truly have no sense of self, but you've yet to find a single person who hasn't gazed upon your face in shock and then glanced down at the rest of your body, eyes hovering _far too long_ over your chest.

"Ignore them," Barbatos had whispered when dressing you this morning, all too aware of how _affected_ you were the last time you accompanied Diavolo at one of his parties. "Try to count all the men who have crooked pocket squares, and try not to think about anything else."

The butler's advice has worked well on you, thus far.

Every time a man begins ogling your body, you take it as an invitation to ogle _his_ , namely the small square handkerchiefs that surprisingly few men in the Devildom wear correctly.

"Ah, Lord Diavolo!" A new nobleman exclaims, approaching the two of you. "It is a pleasure to see you, my prince. And you, my lady," You smile at the man, not missing the way his eyes skirt over your body. "The pearl of the abyss will be the most beautiful queen to have ever ruled."

You thank the man graciously, allowing Diavolo to take over the conversation as your eyes search the room for Barbatos. The moment you find him, it seems that his attention is on you, and the two of you share a secretive smile. _Crooked pocket square_ , your grin tells him, almost laughing.

 _Twenty-two_ , he mouths back to you, adding one more to the count you two have been keeping up all night.

Indeed, Barbatos is the only reason why you've been able to last these past three hours with Diavolo. Perhaps he's the reason you've been able to last these past three weeks, as well.

It's almost amusing, thinking about everything that has brought you to this point.

The first of your interactions with the demon were uncomfortable, and quite awkward when you look back upon the way you had stumbled into his arms after your legs grew numb on the throne, and then the time you had fallen down the stairs while practicing how to walk in the current queen's heels, effectively forcing Barbatos to halt his lessons for the day and massage your aching body, and the time you'd fallen asleep while he dressed you, body leaning further and further backward until you woke up to his sputters of shock as he held you in his arms, corset still half-untied.

You sigh, each of the memories bringing a fresh shade of pink to your ears.

Indeed, the beginning of your friendship with Barbatos was quite rocky.

But after the first week passed, you found yourself growing used to the ways of the palace, and by the second week, the breakfasts with Diavolo weren't even awkward anymore. Why, just this morning, you succeeded in casting away the remainder of your fear over this marriage into the depths of your stomach, (hopefully) never to resurface again!

Diavolo halts in the middle of whatever conversation he's in, turning to smile at you. This time, you don't even hesitate to smile back, ignoring the tension in your gut as he squeezes your waist in what's supposed to be a comforting gesture.

It almost feels like you're ready to be queen.

Almost.

"My lord, might I humbly request this dance for my daughter?" You turn your gaze to the man standing in front of you, someone you recognize from Barbatos's teachings to be the earl of the seventh circle of hell. Next to him is a demongirl, a shy maiden younger than even you, by the looks of it.

A soft smile pulls at your lips when you see the way she looks at Diavolo—doubtlessly captivated by his natural princely charm. You give him a light nod, stepping back as he leads the girl to the ballroom dance floor. After all, it's natural for the prince to dance with his guests.

"I'll be back, my love," He calls over his shoulder, a wide grin spread over his lips before his figure is swallowed by the rest of the demons around you, leaving you to stand and politely wet your lips with a flute of Demonus.

 _Avoid eye contact_ , you remember Barbatos telling you, in case you ever found yourself unaccompanied at one of Diavolo's parties. _Do not give any man the chance to get close to you._

To your surprise, though, it's a woman who draws your attention, waving her arm as she approaches.

"My lady!" She exclaims once she's directly in front of you. "You are so enchanting, my lady. I have waited for a moment this entire night to speak with you and tell you of your beauty—you must be more stunning than even Asmodeus himself!"

You force a smile at her words, ignoring the slight to Asmo. You've attended more than one student council meeting at Diavolo's side by now, and if you disliked people comparing you to the demon before, you hate it even more now that you know how sweet (albeit horny) the demon actually is.

"Your words are kind, Marchioness." You curtsy lightly, hiding your pride at the fact that you actually recognize her.

"You know me, my lady?" Her eyes beam bright with delight. "It is an honor! I do hope that we can be friends over the centuries in your time at the high court, my lady. Lord Diavolo requests my husband's presence in the castle quite often."

"That would be my pleasure," You respond, laughing lightly. "The prince keeps no women in his palace; I would love to have some feminine company."

"Ah," The woman in front of you drawls, understanding dawning in her eyes. You sense her tone change. "Nothing can quite replicate a woman's touch, can it, now?"

"Quite so," You respond, somewhat hesitantly. You don't recognize the strange light in this woman's eye, and you're not sure you like it. Her tone is no longer admiring as she speaks, and you don't know if it's because her earlier optimism has faded or if she truly has grown _that_ comfortable around you in this short exchange.

"How long have you known the lord, my lady?" She asks innocently, eyes turning down to her own glass of Demonus before they flit back up. "All the newspapers say something different, after all."

You swallow, suddenly excruciatingly aware of how the demoness's eyes bore into you. Her calculating stare reminds you of Barbatos, but unlike the olive-haired man, she doesn't look like she plans to reward you with a smile and compliment after this.

"Diavolo has been in contact with my family for many thousands of years," You say smoothly, ignoring the fact that he's technically 'been in contact' with every noble family in the Devildom since birth.

"Ah, but how long have you known him personally?" The woman asks, and only now do you realize that she has you caught in her trap—keeping you locked in conversation with no ready exit, a direct question rolling off her tongue.

You have no choice but to respond.

"We met when he summoned me for the engagement, Marchioness." Your words are brief, eyes still skirting the crowds for the familiar eyes of Diavolo or Barbatos or even Lucifer, since you know he's attending.

"Ah," She responds, a sardonic smile playing on her lips.

 _She already knew_ , you realize from the prideful look in her eyes. _She simply wanted me to say it aloud. But why?_

"So Lord Diavolo selected you, not on the basis of any true attachment, but for your appearance, is that it?" She asks, except that this time you don't have any answer for her. At your silence, she continues: "How pitiful. It is an insult to be ruled by a queen who has no merits other than her looks. The size of your breasts may be considered ideal—"

"Marchioness!" You interrupt, appalled that she went _there._

"—And your body proportions may align with what the commonfolk deem 'beautiful,' but there is nothing else to you, woman. While the prince looks at you with adoration _now_ , as soon as you have grown old with him, there will be nothing left for him or the realm to appreciate from you. Your very queenship is a curse," She spits, "And you will bleed this realm dry for it."

You stare at her in shock, her words echoing in your head long after she's stopped speaking. Only five seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity before the triumphant smile on her lips fades as she opens her lips with the promise of another assault of insults, but it's not her voice you hear.

"Enough," Someone calls from behind you, walking to your side. "Marchioness, you are dismissed. My lady is needed elsewhere."

The woman's eyes widen in surprise when she sees someone interfere—evidently having assured that neither Diavolo nor Lucifer were anywhere nearby when she approached you—but her scowl is replaced by a forced smile as she curtsies and leaves.

"My lady," You hear the familiar voice whisper. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Barbatos." You turn to the man, trying to hide how the Marchioness's words are still affecting you. You give him a fake smile, though you don't even have the energy to let it reach your eyes. "I'm fine."

He clicks his tongue once, telling you to follow him as he leads you out of the door. You maintain an appropriate distance and keep the smile on your face like a mask, acutely aware of how everyone you pass stares at your retreating form until you're out of the party hall entirely.

"My lady," He repeats once you're both in private, turning to you. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

You let out a broken laugh at that, staring at the ground to avoid the pitiful look in Barbatos's eyes. Never, in all Diavolo's parties and gatherings and meetings, has anyone spoken to you so _cruelly_.

"My lady..." He repeats, hesitating before he steps closer and loosely places his hands on your shoulders, trying to get you to look him in the eye. No one should be leaving the party hall, but he keeps his head up in case anyone approaches. It's barely any contact at all, but for a future queen and her butler, it's still _too much._ "You are shaking."

 _He's right_ , you realize. It's not just your lip that's quivering, but your fingers as well, your entire body rattled to the core by the Marchioness's words. You open your mouth to say something, probably another broken reiteration that you're fine, but all that comes out is a distressed whine, and all you can do is give in to the temptation to clutch Barbatos's suit and pull him closer.

The demon sighs, throwing the last of his thoughts over propriety to the wind as he wraps you in a tight embrace, staying silent as he strokes your hair.

"She—she told me—" You try to sputter out a garbled explanation, but you're stopped.

"Shh," He whispers, resting his chin atop your head. "Do not speak, my lady."

You heed his words, silently holding onto him as the bubble of anxiety begins to sink until it's gone altogether, and you can focus on the feeling of Barbatos's arms around your body.

It's not the first time the two of you have hugged. Rather, Barbatos has found that it's the best way to calm you down whenever something happens to work you into such a disturbed state. But still, never before has something affected you _this_ much.

"It is my fault," He says after a long while, when your shoulders aren't shaking and you're quiet once more. "It is dangerous for appearances to be caught alone with a man, but it is dangerous for your heart to be caught alone with a woman. The Marchioness is not known for her kindness, my lady. I should have warned you."

The demon doesn't say anything further, wordlessly leading you by the hand back to your room. "I cannot stay," He informs you when he sets you on your bed, fingers still rubbing comforting circles into your shoulders. "I must inform Diavolo that you've retired for the night. But perhaps afterward—"

"It's fine, Barbatos," You interrupt, sighing tiredly as you look away. "Go. He will be wondering where I am."

With that, the butler nods, leaving you still dressed as you debate trying to fall asleep now or later. _It's no use_ , you realize when you try to rest your head on your pillow. The Marchioness's words feel like they've been branded on your heart with a hot iron that's still pressing down: _You will bleed this realm dry._

If you sleep now, your dreams will be filled with her lips, her voice, her words.

You stand up, opening the door to the balcony and standing outside as the moonlight shines down on you. In the distance, you can see people still entering and leaving the castle, but for once, no one takes any notice of you.

_You will bleed this realm dry._

You swallow thickly, remembering the unbridled _spite_ with which the Marchioness had spoken. You've never met the woman in your life, so surely she cannot have a personal grudge against you. Does that make her words true, then? Will you truly bleed the Devildom dry?

You feel your lips begin to tremble once more at the thought.

There was some degree of truth to her words. You are young, not even old enough to have applied for schooling at the RAD. Your education has explicitly applied to the feminine arts, focused on bringing out the full scope of your charm rather than traditional knowledge, and there must be hundreds of thousands of little girls who are better than you at math, science, all those subjects which you've never been taught.

Doesn't that make _them_ better suited to be queen?

You bite your lip. All this time, you've been focused on everything that you're sacrificing in favor of the realm: a normal life, the chance for a traditional education, the opportunity to be free, even the right to love someone of your choosing.

But is it a greater sacrifice for the realm, if it takes you as its queen?

You feel the first tear roll down your cheeks, a catalyst for the rest that can't seem to stop coming.

All you want to do, all you've _wanted_ to do is make sure that the people around you are happy. But what if you fail them as a queen? What if, because of your inadequate education, you really _do_ bleed the realm dry? What if you end up being the cause of unhappiness in your people? What if you fail?

You clutch the balustrade for support, unable to hold back the rest of your chokes and cries as all your fears come rushing to the forefront of your mind, including the one thing you've tried your hardest not to think about.

You sink to your knees, your sobs outnumbering your short breaths, and it feels like you're struggling even to breathe as your hand clutches the space where your heart lurks, not understanding _why_ it hurts so, just that it _does_.

A knock at your door doesn't halt your cries, nor the familiar call: "My lady?"

"D-don't come in!" You call, placing a hand up as if that'll halt the man; but when he hears the desperate state of your voice, Barbatos wastes no time in rushing inside, eyes darting around the room before they land on your figure on the terrace, crumbled on the ground.

"My lady!"

He rushes to your side, propriety be damned, and sinks to his knees in front of you, eyes looking frantic as he checks your body for any injuries before wrapping you in the tightest hug you've ever felt. "Do not cry," He whispers into your ear, stroking your hair. "Do not cry," He repeats, the words falling like a mantra as he coos your hysterical state into calmness once more.

It's the first time you've seen the man so _frantic_. Usually, his true expression is hidden behind a mask of apathy and smirks, even in all the previous times he's hugged you; but seeing you broken down on the ground, tears flowing down your cheeks faster than you can count them, has clearly shattered the facade he wears.

"I-it's fine, Barbatos." You press a hand to his chest, giving him a shaky smile. "See? All good."

But the butler pays your words no heed, pressing his forehead against yours as he cups your cheek with a tenderness that you've never seen.

"What did she say?" He asks after a moment, his usual composure returning once he's wiped your tearstained cheeks. "What did the Marchioness say, to make you cry like this?"

"Nothing..." You begin, sensing the way his body tenses at the word. "Nothing that was not true."

"My lady," He retorts, unamused eyes boring into yours.

"Please," You whisper, fingers still clutching Barbatos's shoulders. "Please don't ask me about it. Just...just stay like this with me."

The demon sighs, a sound you take as agreement, and you let out a light laugh as he allows you to wrap yourself him, pulling him in for another hug. Resting your cheek against his chest, his arms cover your eyes as they reach around your body to hold you, and you can't help but feel like you wouldn't mind staying like this for the rest of the night.

You close your eyes, savoring the moment.

"My lady, you are falling asleep." Barbatos raises an eyebrow down at you when you give him a noncommitted hum in response. "Come, you should change for the night."

When you don't budge from his arms, the demon decides to lift you, ignoring your protests as he carries you back inside the room. You don't make his task any easier, leaning against him with a giggle when he finally sets you on your feet, but he eventually manages to unlace your corset and remove your dress, lifting you out of your shoes when you refuse to do so yourself.

You smile as he finishes up his work, leaning into his touch freely as he holds you upright, and with a strange sense of clarity, you realize that you're truly happy, right now.

You were crying your heart out just minutes ago, but with Barbatos by your side, your heart feels lighter.

You dwell on the thought, breath hitching when you realize its implications as Barbatos puts the last of your clothes away.

Here is the part where he normally leaves, where he bows his head and flashes you his usual cryptic smile before exiting the room and leaving you to change into your nightclothes. But today, he stays by your side, pulling out the silken garments for you and wordlessly helping you into them. He stays silent as he finishes the rest of your nighttime routine for you, setting you on a chair so he can brush your hair, fetching a warm cloth to gently wipe your face, and you suspect he's about to tuck you into bed when you halt him, raising a hand.

You should not do this, you know. You should let him leave, ignore the thought that crossed your mind, and forget about the strange notion that you find happiness with Barbatos.

But you do not.

"Barbatos," You whisper. "I do not wish to sleep yet."

"Is that your way of asking me to stay or to leave, my lady?" He asks his question with his usual mysterious smile, but you can sense the undertones of concern in his eyes.

"Come to the balcony with me," You say, and Barbatos even helps you do that, holding your hand as he leads you to your desired location. He moves to let go, but when the two of you reach the railing, you make a point of holding on.

The wind has picked up now, and it blows your hair all around you, letting the (h/c) locks dance freely between you and Barbatos.

"She said that I was unfit to be the queen of the Devildom," You finally tell him, voice calm as you speak. "That my only proper asset was my beauty, and that when it would fade, so would the last of my ability to serve the realm. She said that I would bleed the realm dry."

"Preposterous," Barbatos responds swiftly, eyes gazing over the moonlit portion of the RAD campus that your terrace oversees. "Her words were spoken from a place of jealousy. There are hundreds of women like her, and they will all say equally foolish things, but you will silence them when you show them how well you can rule. You will make the realm happy, my lady, I promise you."

You stay quiet, savoring the cool midnight wind that rushes between you and Barbatos.

"My lady?" He asks after another long moment. "Was that what you've been fearing, all this time? That you would fail the realm as queen?"

Again, you stay silent.

"If that is truly the case, then I urge you to have faith in yourself and, if not, then in my teaching. I dare say that you're already prepared to rule the Devildom; you are a quick learner, and you've understood everything I have taught. The realm will thrive under you, and happiness will be as plentiful as you wish it to be."

"I do not fear that I will fail to make the realm happy." You pause for a moment, before lifting your hand to a small, flashing light in the distance that echoes softly in your ears. "Look, the people of the Devildom are _still_ lighting fireworks in honor of our engagement." You smile, watching the red and black lights flicker: red, for Diavolo; black, for the pearl of the abyss.

"My father made them happy when he said yes on my behalf, and I made them happy when I, too, agreed to it. They're not just pleased to see their prince getting married, they're genuinely proud that it's _me_ he's marrying: the most beautiful woman in the world. For the commonfolk, they know not what it is that makes a queen great, so that is all they look for: beauty. Something that I have been blessed with in ample portion." You pause, gaze turning to the ground. "My people will be happy; that I am certain of."

"Then what is it you fear?" Barbatos asks, turning to you.

You still aren't sure that you should say this out loud. It's as if saying the words will make them true, and this is your deepest fear. If it becomes reality, you don't know how you'll survive.

But for Barbatos, you confess.

"That I will be the one who is unhappy."

For the first time this night, the breeze seems to settle, unwilling to carry the words away as they reach Barbatos's ears, the demon turning to you with incredulous eyes.

"My lady, you..." He shakes his head softly, a sad smile coming to his lips as he brushes the last of your tears away. "It is happiness you seek?"

You nod your head meekly, staring at the ground. You don't want to see his eyes, to see what must be his disapproving stare as he shakes his head at your foolish desire. But the heart wants what it wants, does it not? You never asked to be the pearl of the abyss, to be so exquisitely beautiful that Diavolo had no choice but to ask for your hand in marriage, to be forced into this loveless life of royalty and thrones.

"I just wanted to fall in love," You choke out, loosening the grip on Barbatos's hand.

"You have not?" The demon asks, his voice surprisingly gentle as he pulls your face up to him.

"When would I have the opportunity?" You question rhetorically, thinking back to your family. _Never be alone with a boy_ , they had stipulated. _Never give your heart to a boy._ "My family needed me to remain pure for the demon who would eventually ask for my hand in marriage. Even _they_ never suspected that Lord Diavolo himself would desire me, so I have never..."

"My lady," Barbatos mumbles, though the way he says it makes you feel as if he's nervous himself. His eyes dart away before they return to yours.

"If you so desire, I might..."

You pull back, looking up at Barbatos. "You might?"

He traces your face, from cheekbone to jaw, and you only now realize that he's taken his gloves off. His jaw tenses. "I might show you the happiness you yearn for."

You hesitate, eyes widening briefly. "Barbatos, did you hear me? I said that it was love I wished for."

"I heard you, my lady."

"To be loved, Barbatos. From the heart."

"I am aware, my lady."

"And for my own heart to reciprocate—"

"My lady," Barbatos interrupts you, perhaps for the first time. "Are you truly such a fool that you have not already realized this yourself?"

Your ears redden at his words, remembering how he had called you a fool once before, at your very first interaction. The demon brings his hands to your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"My heart is yours, my lady. For the past three weeks, for tonight, and for all nights to come." Barbatos pauses, and you see the faintest tint of pink rise to his cheeks. "I had thought it best to not tell you, but if that is truly what you seek..." He glances at the ground, an uncharacteristic display of weakness. "Then perhaps you would accept this butler's attempt at giving you the happiness you so desire?"

You pause, a soft smile falling upon your lips for the first time since coming out on this terrace.

"And you call me a fool," You mutter softly, cupping Barbatos's cheeks freely. You meet his eyes, cautious and almost _concerned_ after laying his heart bare so openly. "Are you so blind that you have not realized that my heart already belongs to you as well?"

The demon cracks a smile, one that is neither cryptic nor mischievous nor cunning but is entirely _relieved_ as he presses his forehead against yours and lets it rest there, a gesture that is in equal parts loving as it is gentle. "Do not say that, my lady. It is dangerous to tell a man such lies."

 _What lies?_ You mean to ask, but then the demon has tilted your chin up at him and he is kissing you, the wind speeding up as it continues on in the moonlight, giving you and Barbatos the privacy you need to indulge in what your hearts have been desiring for so long.

It's the first kiss of your lifetime, the first time you've ever felt another man's lips against your own. You're not sure if Barbatos can tell, but if he does, he simply makes up for it with his own experience, lips molding against yours in perfect synchronization.

"My lady," The demon whispers. "I will not do anything you do not wish for."

"Then I wish for you, Barbatos." He pulls away for a moment, eyes questioning. You slip your hands in his, intertwining the fingers with a squeeze and a smile. "All of you."

"I am already yours," He murmurs, lifting you in his arms as he steps inside your room and locks the balcony doors behind him. But your meaning is not lost on him, and when he sets you on the bed, he does not leave your side.

The rest of the night is spent in teaching, in breathless moans of "Barbatos" and "My lady." Your lover, ever the kind instructor, never lets go of your hand as he shows you the ways of pleasure, leaving you breathless each time he kisses you, each time he touches you, each time he slips inside you.

It's happiness.

You'd seen glimpses of it earlier, snatches in all the awkward moments with Barbatos and the little jokes you grew to share, but when he exposes his entire body to you, there's no denying that the blissful warmth that spreads through your body is caused by more than just the waves of pleasure he shows you. It's true joy, being able to finally give your heart what it has desired for so long, and the smile remains on your face even as you fall asleep.

 _Happiness_ , you think.

You've never felt it so strongly.

***

The rest of the days seem to pass by far too quickly. Reality is stingy with its gifts—at last, you're free to hug and hold and kiss Barbatos, both of you taking every second of silence to indulge yourselves in each other—but with the wedding drawing nearer, Diavolo insists upon sitting in on your training and watching.

Perhaps it's a good thing?

You certainly wouldn't be thinking about your lessons otherwise.

With your future husband watching carefully, it feels like your brain has been given the extra boost it's needed to fully live up to all of Barbatos's expectations: every scenario he presents, every question he asks, every new element he introduces is met with a swift answer that encompasses everything he is searching for. At last, you've reached a point where you're able to comfortably sit on your throne for hours on end, ready to fulfill all the duties expected of a queen with precision and confidence to boot.

But Diavolo insists on continuing to watch. Continuing to stay. Continuing to impede your ability to throw your arms around Barbatos and forget everything except the feeling of his arms wrapped around your body, guiding you through the steps of this newfound love.

The demon lord has even begun to eat all your meals with you, trying to grow closer to your heart in an attempt to soothe the transition you'll face once the marriage is complete.

But you don't want Diavolo.

"Barbatos," He calls on the ninth morning, the last day before your wedding. The three of you are in your room, Diavolo having spent the night there. The demon lord had not touched you, maintaining his distance as he sat on the far side of your bed, and the two of you had merely spoken like friends. But you could detect the same traces of affection that you saw from Barbatos in the demon's own fiery eyes, intensifying as the night grew longer until they'd turned bright with the morning sunlight.

_The prince has begun to fall in love._

But you have not.

And now, as he watches his butler lace up your corset, the deep orange is darkened with jealousy, noting the ease with which you relax as Barbatos's gloved fingers work deftly over your body. It was only one night you spent with him, the two of you never given the chance to exchange anything other than brief kisses the rest of the time, but he remembers every crevice, every curve. The butler's hands pull the fabric over your skin in a way that can only be described as _perfect_ , digits brushing over your body in ways that still make you shiver.

"Yes, Lord Diavolo?" He questions, continuing to lace your corset while turning his attention onto the prince. The demon doesn't need to _see_ to work; he already knows your body like it's his own.

"I think we should hire someone else to do this task." Diavolo gestures at your dress, yet to be pulled onto your body. "It will no longer be appropriate for a man to dress my love once she has become my wife, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps a maiden in your stead, to see to her desires and do the rest of your current duties?"

There's a moment of hesitation, a brief second where Barbatos's fingers fumble over the knot he's tying, and you see his lips purse.

_Separation._

A maiden to dress you, a maiden to see to your desires, a maiden to do everything that Barbatos currently does for you.

A maiden to replace _him_.

"Of course. I will look into it," Barbatos responds swiftly, resuming his actions as efficiently as he began them. "Are there any other criteria you would like for my lady's handmaid?"

"Oh, not at all. You can select the demoness yourself, if you will. Just ensure that she can begin work the day after the wedding."

You sigh in relief at Diavolo's words, thankful that, if anything, he's giving you the rest of today with Barbatos. And tomorrow, if the date of your wedding counts.

_At least you will have this one mercy._

"Very well," Barbatos responds. "It shall be done."

In the end, you're not sure when he finishes this task. It feels like you're by both Barbatos and Diavolo's side the entire day as you wrap up the last of your lessons, the final instructions for your training.

Still, Barbatos must have found the time somewhere, because Diavolo only leaves your side at night, when the butler is helping you out of your gown and informing you of the details about your new handmaid: a brown-haired youth of fourteen-hundred, innocent and pretty.

But you don't care about the girl, about Ho-Syun or Ha-Soun or whatever her name is.

The moment Diavolo closes the door behind you, you're throwing your arms around Barbatos, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

"My lady," He mumbles when you pull apart. "That was..."

"Hush," You murmur, pressing your lips against his once more, gently this time. You shudder as his fingers ghost over your waist, the skin exposed and flushed after being stuck in a corset all day. "I missed you."

"I've been by your side nearly every second of every day," He quips, smiling into your lips as he rubs your sides, gloveless fingers tracing invisible circles into the skin.

"So has Diavolo."

The demon chuckles, leaning back for a moment in favor of bringing a hand to your cheek. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and simply savoring the _closeness_. "You understand that this is how it will be from now on, my lady? Your things will be moved into his room, and when you are not alone, you will be with either him or your new handmaid." Barbatos pulls back, his eyes distant. "This cannot... _we_ cannot..."

"I know," You murmur, knowing all too well what the butler is trying to say.

_This cannot last._

"But my heart will always be yours, Barbatos." You offer him a smile, looking up and hoping to see soft eyes gazing back down at you, but the demon stiffens at your words.

"Do not say that, my lady."

He takes a step back, posture reserved and, again, _distant_ as he avoids your eyes. You recall, vaguely, that he had said the exact same thing before, on the first night you offered your heart to him.

"What is wrong, Barbatos?" You take a step forward, trying to get him to look you in the eyes. "It is true. My heart is yours, and I...I..." You pause, fumbling with the words. You know them in your heart, and the feelings have only solidified over these past days. But what if he doesn't feel the same way? "I love you."

"Do not say that," The demon repeats, practically hissing the words as he clenches his fist. "It is not true."

"What?" You ask, shocked that he would say such a thing. "Are you denying my feelings now, after everything?"

"I am not denying your feelings, my lady. I wish they were true. But they are not, they _cannot_ be true." He turns his body away from you, still avoiding your eyes. "Your heart can never belong to me."

"You're wrong, Barbatos." You firmly step forward, placing your hands on his chest so that he _can't_ ignore you. "I know how I feel about you, and I—"

"You misunderstand, my lady." The demon's laughter is bitter, and for the first time, you see _pain_ written in his green eyes. "You love me now, but for how long? How can you _possibly_ give me your heart when your wedding is tomorrow morning? How can I even begin to ask for such a thing? If you choose to love me, you are cursed to a life of pain and sorrow, where you can never express how you feel. Should you give me your heart, the happiness you seek can never be found. Never!"

"But—"

"There is no 'but!'" Barbatos flinches when you try to cup his cheek, try to get him to see reason, to see the warmth and affection and _love_ in your eyes. "I told you that I would give you happiness, my lady. There is no happiness for you if you give your heart to me. I shall not ask for it, nor will I accept it."

"Are you asking me to fall in love with Diavolo?" Your lip trembles, desperately hoping that Barbatos isn't saying that, hoping he isn't _denying_ you the affection he once gave so readily.

"It is the only logical course of action, my lady."

Silence.

For a moment, you debate whether to slap Barbatos or to punch him for such _cruel_ words—but in the end, you settle for shoving him away, loosening the grip he had on your shoulders and trying to ignore the tears streaming down your face as you shout at him.

"Wretched man! Curse you to hellfire!" You shout, now wishing that you _did_ slap him, not even seeing the shocked look on his face as you ball up your fists, desperately wiping the tears that are pouring faster than you can stop them. "My parents were right! Men are awful, _awful!_ Did it please you to bed me, knowing that you would just end it and tell me to move on to another man? To kiss and hold me, when you never cared?!"

"My lady," Barbatos murmurs, trying to grab your wrists so that he can approach you. "Please listen—"

"No!" You exclaim, pushing him away when he grows closer. "You're a horrible man—a horrible, cruel, _awful_ man, and I hate that I ever believed any of your affection to be true!"

"My lady!" Barbatos shouts, his own voice drowning out yours as he grabs your wrists, _forcing_ you to stare up into the green eyes that are now burning with anger. "Do you think that it pleases me to have to give you up to Diavolo? Do you think I _enjoy_ watching the prince court you when I know you do not wish for it? Do you think that I _like_ knowing that it is only inevitable that you fall in love with Diavolo, now that he has made it so that we can never even see each other in private?" Barbatos shudders, his face contorted with frustration at the sheer thought. "If you give your heart to me, you can only be miserable—but with Diavolo, you can at least grasp _some_ of the happiness that you desire. I love you more than I love myself, my lady, so tell me: which am I to wish for you? A future where your heart is mine, and you are miserable? Or one where I have to see you with another man, but at least with some chance of happiness?"

The demon's grip around your wrist tightens, and you see Barbatos's face as the mask he wears doesn't just slip off, but breaks entirely, leaving nothing but a man in pain as he stares down at you, too broken to even cry. "Do you think I like it?" He repeats, voice barely a whisper. "That I _enjoy_ calling you my lady when I only wish to call you my love?"

The demon presses his forehead against yours, fingers trembling; and where he was once holding your hands in place, now it's you holding him, squeezing the fingers and trying to get him to feel your love.

"Say it again," You whisper, quiet.

"What?"

"Call me your love," You murmur, eyes bashful as they gaze up at Barbatos.

"My love," He whispers unsteadily, the words sounding foreign off his lips. "My love," He repeats, with more confidence this time. And soon, those two words are filling the room, rolling off his tongue as he says them the way he's imagined all this time.

"I love you, my love." He whispers, lips ghosting against yours, his own cheeks stealing the moisture from your tears as he presses his body into yours, pulling you onto the bed. "I could say it for centuries. My love. My love. _My love."_

Barbatos is content with kissing you, with cherishing your body with his fingers and memorizing every inch of skin that he doesn't already have tattooed on his brain. His lips never leave your body for long, brushing over your lips and then your neck and then your shoulder, and then the clothes are gone entirely, and he has you lying on your back, all his attention focused on you.

"Wait," You mumble, pulling him up. He looks at you with eyes clouded not with lust but with love.

"Yes, my love?" He asks, a light smirk playing at his lips at the very phrase. They aren't the words of a butler but the words of a lover indeed, and you know it as well as Barbatos does.

"If I shall not give you myself for eternity, may I give you myself for this night?"

The butler's breath hitches at your words, catching your meaning despite the ambiguity with which you word them. At his nod, your cheeks flush, and you turn your bodies over with painful slowness such that you're on top of him, palms resting on his chest as you straddle his toned body.

"My love," He whispers, a hand raising to your cheek. The sound of a grandfather clock chiming twelve times does not go unheard by either of you, and his eyes furrow in concern. "The night will not last for long. Tomorrow dawns a day of supreme importance, and..." He sits up, his chest pressing against yours as your foreheads touch. "This will be the last time. Are you certain you do not want me to lead you?"

"No," You mumble, pushing his chest back down. "All this time, you have served me. Tonight," You flush, but you refuse to look away from his watchful gaze. "Tonight, I shall serve you."

His breath hitches.

You stay true to your word, body working slowly through everything despite your utter lack of experience. Barbatos is mesmerized, his eyes watching your every move as you devote yourself to his pleasure and lose yourself in the sensation, his hand clasping yours tightly the two of you come undone together.

By the time you're finished, you all but collapse on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck and preparing to drift off when he flips you over, eyes impossibly _alert_ as he drinks in the sight of your body now underneath him.

"I thought you said that would be the last?" You ask playfully, a smile on your lips.

"I was a fool to think I could resist you," He mumbles, and then the two of you are lost once more, no longer simply being intimate but truly _making love_ as the night grows into morning, just as Barbatos foretold.

You clasp him by the shoulders, holding on tightly when he suggests that the two of you stop. "Don't," You whisper, ignoring the fact that sunlight has begun to unveil the cover of darkness in your room. "Don't stop, Barbatos."

"My love," He whispers, tilting your chin up at him. "The time has come. The ceremonies will begin in soon, you'll need to begin dressing at five in the morning, and..." The man swallows, a flash of disdain appearing in his eyes. "Diavolo will not give you any sleep when you go to his bed, either. It is for the best if you rest, so..."

He falters at your gaze, pleading and desperate.

"I do not want to waste even a second, if it is all I have left," You whisper.

The demon smiles, though it's a sad smile, the edges tilting upward as easily as they could tilt down. "Very well, my love. Not a second shall be wasted."

But even that is not enough.

Despite your silent pleas for time to slow down, it presses forward ardently, hell-bent on bringing you out of Barbatos's arms. You hold the man closer, burying your head in his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can, but nothing can stop the moment when the grandfather clock chimes five times.

You shudder at the sound, trying to hide in Barbatos's arms when it comes.

"My love," He murmurs, worried eyes brushing over your trembling form as you pull him closer and try to ignore it.

"I don't want to go," You whisper. "I don't want to leave you."

"You must, my love." Barbatos slides his hand into yours, pulling your body into a seating position. "Come, we have two hours before..." He trails off, knowing that it won't help you to be specific right now. "Two hours, my love. Let us shower."

You let the demon pull you to your bathtub, where he washes you himself. You savor the sensation of his fingers in your hair, working in shampoo and conditioner and as he cleans every inch of your skin, and you're not sure if he works so well because he's devoted to the task or because he's _still_ trying to imprint the shape of your body into his mind so that he can remember it, even when you're separated.

He dries you with painful slowness, the thin towel between his hands just another vessel he uses to caress your figure, and his hands never leave yours for long—not when he dries your hair, not when he combs it, not when he leads you back into your room to change into your wedding dress.

"Slow," You mutter when he begins dressing you, frowning as he pulls out the thick fabric. Your eyes widen at the sight—how have you never realized, in all your time here, that the gown has been stored in your drawer the entire time?—but you decide that you'd much rather be naked, with Barbatos, than dressed, with Diavolo.

"Even with all my power, I cannot slow down time," Barbatos chuckles into your ear, trying to make a joke.

But you don't find the situation funny.

Your lip trembles every time you see your outfit, your figure beginning to look less and less like the girl who had kissed Barbatos and more like the woman that is going to be Diavolo's wife.

 _This was coming_ , you remind yourself. _Barbatos and I never could last._

But was it so wrong to want it?

Your fists close as he finishes smoothing over your dress, finishes the final touches on your hair.

_It is happening too quickly._

"My love, my..." Barbatos stiffens behind your back. "My lady," He murmurs.

"Stop," You say, eyes filling with tears. You never minded it when he called you that before, but you're not sure you can bear hearing him call you such a _distant_ name right now.

But before Barbatos can even respond, someone is knocking at your door. You do not know who it is—it could be Lucifer, or one of the brothers, or the handmaid Barbatos was talking about, or one of the thousands of guests currently residing in the usually-empty castle in preparation for the wedding, but you cannot deny it any longer.

"The time has come." Barbatos whispers, eyes pulled to the door.

He motions to open it, to reveal your dressed figure to the public and eternally cast you into the arms of the public, but he thinks better of it, turning around.

"You have never looked as beautiful as in this moment, my love," He murmurs, voice muffled only by the speed with which he places his lips on yours, wrapping his hands around you in a pose that would make one think that it's _him_ you're marrying.

And then he's pulled away, walking toward the door.

You're not sure whether he's walking out of your life, or if you're the one leaving him; but once the door opens, the message is clear.

There's no going back.

***

Barbatos goes about the rest of his day entirely normally. Hands folded behind his back, posture perfectly straight, enigmatic smile locked onto his face—one would hardly be able to tell that his heart is in agony, screaming with pain and rage and _anger_.

He nods at Diavolo's every comment about how stunning you look from a distance, since the noblewomen are keeping you busy with all the traditional ceremonies and matrimonial rites, and the butler even manages to laugh when his prince jokes to Lucifer about how lucky he is that the pearl of the abyss accepted his hand in marriage.

He doesn't comment that you thought you had no other choice, that you would turn around right now if you could, that you would do anything to be given the chance to marry someone else.

No, Barbatos keeps all that to himself. It's a skill, truly.

Not even Lucifer, keen as the demon is, recognizes anything unusual about the butler.

It's an hour before the ceremony that his mask slips off, and even then, it's only for a millisecond. The maiden who was calling his name scarcely notices, simply pulling Barbatos along into the room in which the noblewomen are supposed to be preparing you.

"Men are not supposed to enter—" He protests, trying to fight the woman's insistent tugs as she drags him inside the _one_ location that Barbatos is forbidden to be.

"The bride is having cold feet! Someone must calm her, and she began crying when we said we would fetch Lucifer!" The girl exclaims, eyes urgent. _Cold feet?_ Barbatos thinks, before understanding dawns on him. _Ah_ , he realizes, remembering your fearful eyes. Barbatos should have spent more time preparing you to leave, he realizes.

You are not ready.

_I apologize, my love._

It's his fault, he spent far too much time _loving_ you last night when he should have been preparing you for the inevitable—his own selfish crime that you were now paying for.

He enters the tent, his eyes instantly falling upon your figure.

 _Did I ever tell her how beautiful she was?_ He wonders, approaching you where you sit, cheeks still stained with your earlier tears. They fill with water once more as your eyes meet, and a hush falls over the room after the noblewomen usher him your way, each one whispering that he must do something and _quickly._

"My lady," He says, voice calm. He hates that—how he must keep his tone even, his hands behind his back, when all he wants to do is embrace you. "You have been crying."

He hates that he has to state the fact with such apathy, knowing that the gossip of noblewomen travels too far for him to risk anything that isn't perfectly within the bounds of a _butler_.

He hates everything about this situation, and yet he continues smiling, maintaining the mask.

But there are little things he can do, little gestures that you will understand that the rest of the women in the tent won't.

"I am afraid," You whisper. Your voice breaks in the middle, as if you want to say more but then you think better of it.

Barbatos sighs.

He kneels in front of you, fetching the handkerchief he keeps in his breast pocket. Wiping your tears with it the way he once wiped dirt off your face, he hopes you notice how he sets the square of green on the table, leaving it there with his heart so that you can use it again should you need it. _I can give you this, at the very least._

"It is okay to be afraid," He says, standing up. The demon's eyes gloss over, and he imagines himself lifting his hand to your cheek, resting his forehead against yours, maybe even settling a kiss against your perfectly soft lips.

But he cannot.

There are too many people watching, too many mouths ready to gossip if he tries to touch you the wrong way, even if he holds himself back. So all he does is step back, bowing his head gently such that only you can see the love in his eyes.

"Have strength, my lady."

Your eyes widen, remembering the first time he said them.

 _My strength,_ he vows. _I will give you all of it, if it may help you attain the happiness you so seek._

The noblewomen around him seem confused when he motions to leave, one of them muttering that he barely did anything.

But Barbatos knows you have shed the last of your tears for the night.

Those words gave you the power to stand tall in Diavolo's hall when you faced the prince for the first time. Now they will give you the power to face the demon lord once more, as you become wife to the man you used to fear.

Once more, he exits, a smile locked onto his face to hide the utter anguish within, not even batting an eyelid as he rattles off an excuse to Diavolo about why he is late.

 _I want to die_ , he can't help but think, as he stands on the altar, still smiling.

He never told you, but it will be _him_ who oversees your union with Diavolo, bearing the rings and the honorary sigils all the other stupid trinkets Barbatos hates that the prince insisted on using for the sake of tradition.

He ignores Diavolo and Lucifer as they mindlessly engage in some conversation, neither demon as disturbed or _affected_ by the wedding as Barbatos is.

 _Die,_ Barbatos thinks. _I want to die._

But he dismisses the thought, knowing that it would make you sad. And when he knows that all you search for is happiness, how can he ever do anything that would wound you in such a way?

Barbatos has at least that mercy; he knows that the love of his life will be happy in the end. You would be a fool, not to be. Diavolo has only begun his vicious process of courting you, and the demon prince—soon to be demon king—has never failed at anything when he has put his mind to it. Your heart is young, and it is Barbatos's honor to have been your first suitor, but he knows Diavolo will be the last.

A cruelty to Barbatos, but a kindness to you.

It hurts him to know such a truth. But it is the only reason he has not switched realities, yet. Because in this end, you will find happiness. Even if it is not with him.

A collective gasp rises in the hall as your figure approaches, majestic in the wedding gown that Barbatos himself was given the task of selecting. You wear silk tempered from the willowy smokes of hellfire, your skin's natural radiance seeming to light the dress afire once more as you walk down the aisle.

 _She's stunning_ , Barbatos realizes, suddenly wishing that he had said it to you more often. He had not been given the privilege of fixing your makeup or selecting your accessories, that was a task assigned to the noblewomen attending. Still, they had done well, opting to dress you in black pearls instead of white, the spheres darker than even Barbatos's heart. He can't help but think how cruel it is that he's never seen you look so perfect before.

 _The most beautiful woman I have ever seen_ , he thinks, and then he wants to die all over again, to change this timeline and make it so that he is yours and you are his, and he won't have to watch you fall in love with Diavolo in these future weeks.

_What have I done to deserve this?_

It's the dramatic irony that Shakespeare spent his whole life searching for: that a demon so overwhelmingly strong he's left unshackled even by time can be turned slave by the very same forces to the demon lord. It's the tragedy of Barbatos: the burden he must bear, to see his only love in all the realms and realities so close to him but so far from reach.

Truly, time does not exist to Barbatos.

But that was how it was meant to be. For you are everything: his past, his present, his future. He does not need time. He has _you_.

Had.

The clock started ticking when the two of you met, and now he must suffer in silence as time marches onward, offering him no rest from this inescapable reality.

Die, he wants to die.

He does not want to listen as he murmurs the introductory words he memorized eons ago, he does not want to hear you rattle off the vows he made you rehearse, he does not want to see you smile that fake smile he taught you to adorn, he does not want to watch you prepare to give your heart to a man that is not _him._

Die, Barbatos wants to die when Diavolo turns to him and asks for the rings, the butler forced to calm the relentless sea of emotion wrecking through his heart.

The olive-eyed demon keeps his hands steady as he places the ring onto your palm. He wants to hold your hand longer, to squeeze it. He wants to place a kiss over your knuckles and smile wryly up at you to see the blush that paints your cheeks. He wants to rip off his gloves and feel your warmth, your touch. He wants to jump forward in between you and Diavolo and _stop_ this unholy union devoid of love and he wants to place his hand on Diavolo's chest and stop the man from leaning closer to you and he wants to cease this and no he must look away and no make it stop make it stop god please _just please_ ** _make it stop_** _—_

Dead, Barbatos is dead.

Or is that just the feeling of watching you kiss another man? ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 9.8k
> 
> Notes: I am so sorry Barbatos and I am sorry readers for this being a day late but i am more sorry Barbatos you deserve nothing but happiness and i wrote this and :(
> 
> Comment & Leave Kudos
> 
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.


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